Home
by thedaringkurtsie
Summary: Oneshot. Brittanna. Set Just before season 1.Santana discovers her mutant abilites, when Brittany most needs her. A spin off from my other story, McKinley High A School for the extraordinarily gifted. Read and review! Thank you!


**A/N: Oh, god, it feels good to be writing again. I'm so sorry I've been on such a long break, things got mental at drama, and then I decided to go to Sixth Form, and actual stupid amounts of work happened, and I hadn't seen a key board in years. But, I am now back (With a brand new rap? No? No.), and I hope this suffices for my lack of posts on here. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it, because it was legit, the most fun ever. I love getting into really dramatic stuff. And with a new paring too! My first Fem slash! Woop! I hope I did them justice. It's not a field I've really read or written before. You can also think my friend Charlotte for this. She is a mad Brittana shipper, and likes to read my shizz, so I thought, **_**why not?**_** So yeah. Love to her. **

**Enjoy! **

**This features Brittana, as seen in my Fic "**_**McKinley High, A School For The extraordinarily gifted" **_**So, I'd recommend reading that first, otherwise the super powers might not make sense. Yep**_**. **_**Super powers. No, I don't know why I think these things either. Please note that this is set, somewhere before the start of season one, so Santana and Brittany are both… Sophomores? I believe? I don't know, I'm English. I just know they're in their second part of high school, that my Sims games reliably inform me have 4 parts. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything remotely to do with glee. This purely for entertainment, and results in absolutely **_**no**_** profit for me, or anyone. **

_**Warning: Contains scenes of violence and some swearing.**_

**Home.**

Santana could see the moon and the stars out here. It was strange, she thought. In an area oftown, as full of night life as this, you would have expected not to have seen anything in the inky darkness, all of it blotted out by the harsh neon lights of the clubs and bars. But here she was, in a dark alley, at the back of one of Lima's worst night clubs, and she could see the stars and moon as if they were next to her. She supposed it should be pretty, but her mind was elsewhere.

"The sky's pretty right?"

Santana nodded at the exuberant and bouncy blonde next to her, never taking her eyes off her once.

"Damn beautiful."

Brittany turned back to her and gave her a warm smile, before connecting their hands together, and directing her gaze back to the night sky. Santana stared down at the contact and felt heat rise up along her cheekbones. How the hell did this girl always know what she wanted?

She shook her head and focused on the dulled pounding of the base the DJ was playing inside.

It was a stupid idea to come here, anyway. The whole event had been organised by Frannie Fabray, after she had captained them to cheerleading victory at nationals, once again. Of course, for Santana, it had been her first victory as part of the cheerios squad, but that didn't really matter. Everyone knew that Frannie had lead them all to victory, numerous times before, and had rightfully earned her position as protégée of Coach Sylvester every time. It was also common knowledge that once this year was up, her graduation was due, leaving the position for head cheerleader wide open. And her younger sister, Quinn, was hotly tipped to take the reins.

So here they were, at god knows what hour of the morning, packed into a club to celebrate not only their wildly victorious squad, but also to celebrate the passing of the cheerleading crown, as it were.

Santana hated it.

Hated the pretentiousness of the event, hated the assumption that, just because she was related to Frannie, Quinn would get the head position. She hated that Quinn was the only sophomore on the squad that seemed to get any kind of recognition, despite the fact that she _never _put out for anyone, and Santana was pretty sure that was quite high on the "Things cheerleaders usually do" list.

She noticed Brittany giving her a cautious look, and dragged herself out of her internal rant.

"Sorry," she mumbled, although she wasn't entirely sure why. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? It wasn't like Brittany could hear her- and yet she felt she could. It was always like this with Brittany. Sure, she wasn't the brightest crayola in the pack, if you caught her drift, but Brittany had always made up for that, with this way she had of just... knowing. You were sad? Brittany would turn up with a spoon and just the right amount of Ben and Jerry's phish food, at exactly the right moment. You were angry? Brittany would be the first one there, always listening, if not always entirely understanding. It was unusual. Most of the time Santana put it down to the fact that she often wore her heart on her sleeve, to the extent that even a blind man would know how she felt, but sometimes there was just something _about_ Brittany when she did these things. A glow, a bright radiance about her, which seemed to light up her being more than any stage or flood light ever could.

Brittany gave another warm smile, this one a lot more knowing and devious than her usual one of pleasant detachment. What did this girl know?

Brittany's hand extended forward slightly, as if of it's own accord, to brush a wayward stand of hair out of Santana's face and back behind her ear. Her fingertips gently grazed Santana's cheekbones, and she felt herself shiver at the touch. She felt her eyes flutter closed slightly, and even sighed out and leant into the touch. She felt the warmth of Brittany's breath ghosting against her lips and smiled instinctively, leaning in to close the gap that was probably mere centimetres, but felt somehow like miles.

"_Hey!"_

The gruff cry caused the girls to snap apart before contact was made, and Santana felt the loss of warmth run through her in an aching manner.

She turned to where she'd heard the noise and as soon as she had, every element, every single little atom of her countenance wished she hadn't. Time seemed to slow down around her and shatter, as the Man who'd let out the cry stood at the entrance of the alley and grabbed Brittany's wrist, hauling her forwards, and pressing her back to him, as his other arm wrapped around her throat. Santana felt the choke hold as if it was her own neck he held. She thought she saw the glare of a knife, but her thoughts became thrown together, messed up and jumbled around, like sheet music thrown to the floor. Her sight changed from visions of Brittany clasped against the man holding her, and visions of her self, doubled over at the end of the alley. She felt flashes of sickness, and dizziness, mixed with the intermitting feeling of cold metal being pressed against her throat.

She snapped her eyes open, and glowered at the man in front of her. She tried to straighten herself up desperately, from her current position doubled over and terrified, fighting back the urge to be sick.

Brittany was pressed against him, a knife at her throat, swallowing desperately, and murmuring something around the occasional whimper. Santana couldn't be sure, but it looked like she was chanting "_concentrate"_ repeatedly, over and over, like a mantra.

"_Get. Off. Her." _Santana didn't even know where the voice came from, it was a deep guttural noise, closer to a snarl than her own voice.

She saw Brittany's eyes fly open, and had to fight herself to keep her thoughts in order again, feeling the familiar swill and tumult of her thoughts becoming inexplicably jumbled and erratic.

"Wallet." The man stammered, nerves getting the better of his hand as he inexplicably began to shake, his previously steady hold, faltering. "Wallets and jewellery."

Santana was about to snap at him; something about lima heights, or living on the wrong side of the tracks, something suitably fierce, but everything died on her lips, as he pressed the knife tighter to Brittany's neck, a wave of fear throwing it's self over her.

She wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream, and cry and yell, and run, and hit and fight, but all she could see was a thin line of red, as the knife pressed on Brittany's neck.

_Stay calm._

Santana let out a small noise of startled aggravation.

Calm? Fucking Calm? She's hearing voices, and the only thing they're telling her to do in this fucking situation is _stay calm?_

_It's not you. It's me. It's me, it's Brittany. Now, like, stay calm. Please_

Santana looked up and locked eyes with the blond, struggling in the man's grip.

_Yes, me. _

"How..." Santana stared back, and fought with the weight of the confusion. _What the hell was going on?_

_I know you can do it, Santana. I know more than you think. Please, just be calm. _

Brittany was still struggling against the man's hold, the knife still on her throat, but her watery blue eyes were communicating something completely different. They were steely and determined, somehow, Santana knew she wanted to believe her.

_Listen to me. I know this is , like, super messed up, but I'm not the only one who can do this. Just, please. Please. Think calm stuff. Like fluffy rabbits, or rainbows or something. Please. _

Santana let out a choked laugh and felt hot tears running down her cheeks. She shook her head tried to isolate herself in her thoughts. _Man up goddammit!_ _If Brittany can hold her shit together right now, then you sure as hell can, and you're not the one in immediate danger here. _

She exhaled and did her best at straightening up slowly. _Calm. Be Calm. _She felt her fists close tightly at her sides, as she called on all her energy resources to affect an air of calm.

_Picture it in your head. Everything that makes you calm, picture it in your head._ Brittany's voice floated into her consciousness again, and she fought to obey it.

She thought of everything she knew. The ghost of a wet dewy smell filled her imagination, it was cold and fresh and she wanted to breathe it in and smell it forever.

Another incredulous laugh fought its way out again. Fresh cut grass? For real? This was the legendary Santana Lopez, mad HBIC from the roughest part of Lima Heights Adjacent, and all she could think of to calm herself down was _freshly. Cut. Grass?_ It would have been comical, had she not been in a dark alley, with her best friend, and secret love of her life, being threatened.

No. Focus. How does it feel? She desperately scrambled for the right thoughts in her head.

_Soft. Cold. _She thought about the feel of it in between her fingers, the rough slide of it as the dew made the grass glide around her hands. She thought the sight of it. Perfect, glowing emerald green, sparkling in the sunlight, which would be thrown off it in millions of different rainbow shades by the reflective layer of water on top.

_Santana! Push it! Push it out towards us, the feeling, the calm, push it out and around us. Please, I know you can do it, please. _

And for some reason, Santana knew she was right.

She thought hard. Pushed up all her strength and pushed it way. Sent it to Brittany. Pushed it out and away from her own self being. It was like trying to push through water in a swimming pool, one million outward forces acting against her, but she pushed all the same. Pushed out the way it made her feel. The way her muscles relaxed and her shoulders slumped, like she'd got into a hot bath. The aura flowing away from her and spreading out.

Santana's eyes snapped open at the sound of Brittany making an alarmed cry. The man had dropped her from his grip, and now stood, his arms dangling loosely at his sides. His eyes seemed vacant, and Santana was pretty sure he was dribbling from one side of his mouth.

Brittany backed away a little, and began shaking her head, clearing away the docile mist Santana had left in her mind. She levelled her gaze at the attacker, and in that moment, Santana saw something she never forgot for the rest of her life.

The blond's eyes went from their normal ice blue, to a sparkling, fiery gold. Her voice matched eyes, becoming something more definite than Santana had ever heard before.

"Stand up. Look at me. Drop the knife."

The man didn't even argue. His vice like grip on the metal blade relaxed automatically, and in a move completely void of all grace, let it clatter noisily to the floor. There was no questioning how deeply he was under the young cheerleader's control. The puppet like actions made Sanatana shiver. It was a level of power she had never even considered Brittany might have.

"Good. Now listen, and listen very closely. Run. Just, Run. And don't ever, _ever _come back."

Santana didn't think she'd ever seen someone follow a command so quickly.

Her eyes darted out towards Brittany, who's eyes had snapped back to their usual blue colour, and stuck her arms out to catch her as her body began to slump as she let out a large exhale of breath.

Her head turned into the crook Santana's shoulder and neck, and she felt her make a small muffled sob.

"_I hate doing that."_ She murmured, nuzzling into Santana's neck for comfort.

Santana did her best at comforting her, rubbing small circles into her back, and placing her chin atop Brittany's blond hair as she held her.

"If you don't mind me asking…What the fuck was that you just did?"

The girl in her arms let out a long, laboured sigh, and turned her head to make her voice clearer.

"Kurty says it's called, like, compulsion or something. It's part of this telepathy I can do, which is how I spoke to you, before. Don't be freaked out though. There's a whole bunch of us like this at school. We're not alone."

Santana nodded and tilted Brittany's chin up, so as to look into her eyes as she spoke.

"And that's how you knew I could… do… that?" She asked, vaguely gesturing outwards with her arms as she tried to describe what she'd done.

Brittany nodded into her shoulder and smiled weakly.

"I knew before you did. It was always there. You just didn't know about it. That's just how it happens, I guess. We can go see Kurt about it tomorrow."

With a nod, Santana settled back into a heavy silence, where she merely held Brittany to her tighter, and breathed in the smell of her vaguely pomegranate shampoo.

It was all Santana could do not to cry a little more when Brittany broke said silence.

"Santana? This nice, but, honestly. I'm tired. I'm so tired. Could we go home?"

She let out a small smile, and detached herself from where she was wrapped around Brittany, but still keeping a hold of her hand.

"Yeah." She said with a smile. "Home sounds good."

**A/N: SO! Opinions! Yes? No? Oh please god stop? Why the fuck are you writing more FanFiction you illiterate fool? Drop a review! Let me know! Thank you, ever so much for reading this far. I do love you. **

**I do. **

_**P.S: Find me on Tumblr, at www. ravingsofabitchyteenager . tumblr. Com, but without the spaces. I mostly reblog Sherlock/Dr Who/ Merlin/ Never ending Benedict Cumberbatch spams and stuff, but I often post original writings and things and stuff too :) **_

_**P.P.S: Thanks, Charlotte for giving me and excuse to write stuff. And for putting up with my spamming of your tumblr page.**_


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